Amina wakes up late, the sunlight streaming through her open window. She groans, rubbing her eyes as the events of the previous night come flooding back—the dream, Emeka's visit, the eerie whispers. But there's no time to dwell on it. Her mother's voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAZBSx9COqHy
"Amina! Are you still sleeping? Get up!"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAn6mBrv9WKy
Amina stumbles out of bed, her head still foggy. She opens her door to find her mother, **Mama Nkechi**, standing with her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of exasperation and disappointment.
157Please respect copyright.PENANA7jA7dsohp6
"Look at this room!" Mama Nkechi exclaims, gesturing to the open window and the empty ice cream bowl on the desk. "You slept with the window open? Do you want thieves—or worse, spirits—to crawl in? And this bowl! Look at it!"
157Please respect copyright.PENANA7ODLUFaISd
Amina follows her mother's gaze to the bowl, now swarming with ants. She winces. "I'm sorry, Mama. I forgot—"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAfVQRGxNjvm
"Forgot? Eh? You're too old to be forgetting things, Amina. And look at the time! The sun is already high, and you're still in your nightclothes. Hurry up and get dressed. We're going to the market."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA5FuD0QhNgH
Amina hurries to wash up and change, pulling on a simple but elegant **dera**—a flowing, ankle-length dress with intricate embroidery along the neckline. She ties a matching headscarf loosely around her hair, the fabric bright and cheerful against her dark skin.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAPkaEN2v4dJ
When she steps into the living room, her father, **Papa Chukwuma**, is already dressed for work. He's wearing his usual outfit—a collared shirt tucked into neatly pressed trousers, his boots polished to a shine. He's sitting at the table, a notebook open in front of him as he calculates the household expenses.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAArwz29oEoo
"Good morning, Papa," Amina says, her voice soft.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAGAO7Ez63id
Papa Chukwuma looks up and smiles. "Good morning, my daughter. You look... decent."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAPyJ5OQsNLE
Mama Nkechi, who's now dressed in casual Nigerian wear—a colorful wrapper and a simple blouse—rolls her eyes. "Decent? Is that all you can say? Your daughter looks beautiful, and all you can say is 'decent'?"
157Please respect copyright.PENANACQ7XlaRiMS
Papa Chukwuma chuckles, closing his notebook. "Fine, fine. She looks beautiful. But beauty won't pay the bills. Amina, have you thought about what we discussed? About Chief Emeka's son?"
157Please respect copyright.PENANACM164WN3bf
Amina's smile falters. "Papa, not this again—"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAZRH529FqB1
Mama Nkechi cuts in sharply. "Chukwuma, must you bring this up now? Can't you see we're trying to get ready?"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAOBdFQgg0uH
Papa Chukwuma holds up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I just want what's best for her."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAapHj5JW73B
Papa Chukwuma stands, slipping his notebook into his pocket. He hands Mama Nkechi a wad of naira notes. "This should be enough for the market and the books. Don't forget to stop by the pharmacy and pick up medicine for my mother. She's complaining of a mild malaria again."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAkbLkK7iPM5
Mama Nkechi nods, tucking the money into her bag. "We'll take care of it. But why can't you drop us off at the market? It's on your way."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAj8UY64v4x9
Papa Chukwuma shakes his head. "I'm picking up my friend, **Obinna**, today. We're doing field work, and it's in the opposite direction. You'll have to take a taxi."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA7FBbjBSWwK
Mama Nkechi sighs but doesn't argue. She turns to Amina. "Let's go. The market won't wait for us."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA0hVIs8M3WM
As they step outside, Papa Chukwuma mounts his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. He glances back at Amina, his expression softening. "Take care of yourself, my daughter. And don't forget—education is important, but so is family."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAuHlLdjJaiH
Amina nods, though her heart feels heavy. "Goodbye, Papa. I love you."
157Please respect copyright.PENANARy81L8H3J5
He doesn't respond, but the way he looks at her tells her everything she needs to know. With a final wave, he rides off, the sound of the motorcycle fading into the distance.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAcv4uPjYM94
***
157Please respect copyright.PENANAhIhaQ2wrIW
Mama Nkechi and Amina set off on foot, their bags slung over their shoulders. The morning sun is warm, the streets bustling with activity. Vendors call out to passersby, their stalls overflowing with fresh produce, colorful fabrics, and handmade goods.
157Please respect copyright.PENANASu4e1BEttd
As they walk, Mama Nkechi glances at Amina. "You know your father means well, even if he doesn't always say the right things."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA7Xbl1y8g0F
Amina sighs. "I know, Mama. But I just... I want to focus on my studies. Is that so wrong?"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAQPsxD280rO
Mama Nkechi smiles, patting her daughter's arm. "No, it's not wrong. But remember, life is about balance. You can have both—education and family. Just give it time."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAf7u6ue8F7z
Amina nods, though her mind is still racing. As they approach the market, she can't shake the feeling that something is watching her, waiting. But for now, she pushes the thought aside, focusing on the day ahead.
157Please respect copyright.PENANA0fEt725913
The market is alive with noise and color, the air thick with the scent of spices, fresh produce, and sizzling street food. Mama Nkechi leads Amina through the bustling stalls, her eyes scanning for the best deals. They stop at a yam vendor, his table piled high with tubers of various sizes.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAjGCwgO7eBG
"How much for this one?" Mama Nkechi asks, holding up a large yam.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAYujEv28WSZ
The vendor, a middle-aged man with a weathered face, squints at her. "₦1,500. Very fresh, very good."
157Please respect copyright.PENANALReLf5fusP
Mama Nkechi scoffs, placing the yam back on the table. "₦1,500? Are you trying to rob me? This yam is not even that big. I'll give you ₦800."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAI0Jkx81bmt
The vendor shakes his head, his expression indignant. "₦800? Mama, this yam is big enough to feed your whole family for a week! ₦1,200, final price."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAQahr064blf
Mama Nkechi folds her arms, her lips pursed. "₦1,000, and I'll buy two. Take it or leave it."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA6ykMo1joA5
The vendor hesitates, then sighs dramatically. "Ah, Mama, you're killing me. But because it's you, I'll take it. ₦1,000 for two."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA51JwlU9xe2
Mama Nkechi smiles triumphantly, handing over the money. "Thank you. Next time, don't try to overcharge me."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA4zt3vSZP4J
As Mama Nkechi inspects the yams, Amina feels a strange sensation, like someone is watching her. She turns and locks eyes with an old man standing a few feet away. His gaze is intense, almost piercing, and before she can look away, he starts walking toward her.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAdw3fDwdvtw
Amina's heart races. She tries to step back, but the crowd is too dense. The old man reaches her in moments, his hand gripping her wrist with surprising strength.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAHq8JLs3wvq
"Don't scream," he says, his voice low and urgent. "I'm here to help. I know what you see, and it will get worse if we don't fix it."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAMgrcxSQ52Z
Amina's breath catches in her throat. "What are you talking about?"
157Please respect copyright.PENANAOYylk8JhyF
The old man doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls a talisman from his pocket—a small, intricately carved ankh with the Eye of Osiris etched into the back. He presses it into her hand.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAc6GQbSOMP4
"This will help," he says. "But it will cost you. ₦2,000."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAZg6fOPvJjl
Amina shakes her head, clutching the talisman. "I can't. That money is for my books."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAXIcdvoNyMQ
The old man's eyes narrow. "₦1,000, then. But don't waste my time."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAqpFZbjQ4wQ
Amina hesitates, but the old man's gaze is unrelenting, his eyes boring into hers until she feels a chill run down her spine. Reluctantly, she pulls out the money and hands it to him.
157Please respect copyright.PENANA0ajhNswifP
The old man pockets the cash, his expression grim. "Don't lose it," he warns. "If the gods send me to you again, I'll charge extra."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAfpqCGgRfbQ
Before Amina can respond, he melts into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAldqe9JvZXq
Amina stares at the talisman in her hand, her mind racing. Just then, she feels another pair of eyes on her. She looks up and sees her—Mami Wata. The spirit is standing a few feet away, her body draped in a flowing white robe that covers her hair like a veil. Her beauty is otherworldly, her smile both enchanting and terrifying.
157Please respect copyright.PENANA350BRgSIta
"That won't save you for long," Mami Wata says, her voice a melodic whisper. Then, just as suddenly as she appeared, she vanishes into the crowd.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAXtC6AtGMDx
Amina is still staring at the spot where Mami Wata stood when her mother's voice snaps her back to reality.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAij035Iq5cC
"Amina! Are you daydreaming again? A whole you?" Mama Nkechi shakes her head, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Abeg, let's go home. I've already bought everything while you were standing there like a statue."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAXgYnuEuQ5M
Amina forces a smile, slipping the talisman into her pocket. "Sorry, Mama. Let's go."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAJ5WJxMPU0c
Back at home, Mama Nkechi and Amina prepare lunch together—a pot of fragrant **jollof rice**, the aroma of tomatoes, peppers, and spices filling the kitchen. As they cook, Mama Nkechi shares stories from her youth, her voice warm and nostalgic.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAzbD7H8yJcc
"You know, your father didn't marry me for my looks alone," she says, stirring the pot. "He was betrothed to another woman, but when he tasted my cooking, he canceled the wedding and married me instead."
157Please respect copyright.PENANADUwHVEcjzs
Amina laughs, though her mind is still on the talisman and the old man's warning. "Mama, you're exaggerating."
157Please respect copyright.PENANA3A4AYwri8c
Mama Nkechi shakes her head, her expression serious. "I'm not. A woman must know how to cook if she wants to keep her husband. And you, my daughter, need to learn. One day, you'll have a family of your own."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAZcqlyB7vmm
Amina nods, though the thought makes her uneasy. She focuses on the task at hand, chopping vegetables and stirring the pot as her mother instructs.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAmH84yQ5HsQ
After lunch, Mama Nkechi packs a dish of jollof rice, a thermos of tea, a bottle of water, and a few malaria pills into a basket. "Take this to your grandmother," she says, handing the basket to Amina. "And don't dawdle. She's expecting you."
157Please respect copyright.PENANAcxt8Lt88VG
Amina nods, slinging the basket over her arm. As she steps outside, she glances at the talisman in her pocket, her heart pounding. She knows the old man's warning was real, but she can't shake the feeling that something is still watching her.
ns216.73.216.178da2